


The Kneazlenapper

by everlovingdeer



Series: Harry Potter Short Stories [170]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Kneazles, Misunderstandings, Muggle Life, Strangers to Lovers, nanny - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22800148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everlovingdeer/pseuds/everlovingdeer
Summary: “I don’t wish to see you again, sir,” I said shorty. “If I happen to see you once more around my Kneazle,oraround the children, then I will call the Aurors without asking what business you have around here.”
Relationships: Newt Scamander/Original Female Character(s), Newt Scamander/Reader
Series: Harry Potter Short Stories [170]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1461751
Comments: 3
Kudos: 146





	1. The Kneazlenapper

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to other sites on 07/01/2020

The Fairbanks were a delightful family now consisting of 5 members. The three children, each rowdy and wonderful and left under my charge were born to frightfully boring parents who sometimes lacked the common sense I thought should have been a basic requirement for people to have before being allowed to becomeparents. It was a good thing that the Fairbanks home was run by a competent set of staff who had _far_ more sense than the Master and Mistress of the home.

For almost three years now, since Charlotte, the eldest of the Fairbanks children had her first burst of accidental magic at the young age of 3 years old, I worked as their live-in nanny. All members of the family, the adults and the children who were too young to pay any real attention to anything of importance, had no idea about the truth of my identity. Perhaps when Charlotte was off to Hogwarts, I would finally confess to them that I was a witch and not just their nanny. For now, I would settle for guiding and encouraging her curiosity from the background.

The three Fairbank children walked in front of me for our daily stroll through the park, walking hand in hand with the youngest – a toddling Peter – clinging to Elliot and Charlotte on either side of him. I walked as a close shadow, keeping a careful watch on them with a picnic basket looped through one arm. As we neared our usual shaded area where we stopped for our weekly picnic on the handful of days that the weather was good, Peter and Elliot started to run – as fast as they could with Peter just having learned to walk. Charlotte remained walking patiently, clutching my pet kneazle in her hands. The creature, one Charlotte had named Lottie after herself, settled more comfortably in her arms than it ever did in mine.

When we finally reached our usual space, I set the picnic basket down. Removing the blanket, I spread it out gently before ushering the children to take a seat. Once we were all sat down, I wiped at the children’s hands and faces, smiling encouragingly at Peter when he settled himself onto my lap. Searching through the basket, I slowly retrieved all the food, warning the children that they weren’t to fill up on sweets before handing Peter a biscuit that he gummed at.

Content, I began to pick at my own food, watching Peter with, especially close eyes to make sure he didn’t drop his food only to stick it once more in his mouth. Of course, I needed to watch for Charlotte as well who would attempt to feed Lottie everything that was on her plate – especially if the food had any sort of nutritional value and it was something that didn’t particularly appeal to her.

As they started to eat, Charlotte listened with very little attention as Elliot regaled her about tales – extremely tall tales – about things that definitely did _not_ happen in his latest sessions with his tutor. Once the children had eaten something, Charlotte and Elliot were on their feet and preparing to run around to play what looked like it was gearing up to be a particularly rambunctious game of tag. Peter attempted to follow after his siblings but I held him securely on my lap, coaxing him to eat some of the bread before he could join them. Finally freed from Charlotte’s arms, Lottie curled into a content ball in the middle of the blanket.

Once Peter had eaten enough, I wiped his face and made sure he drank enough water before releasing him. He rose on unsteady feet, and with a strangled excited shriek, he made his way slowly towards his siblings. Of the children, Elliot was the first to spy him, stopping the game temporarily and waiting for a ruddy-faced Peter to catch up. Lottie, realising there were no small fingers running through her fur, peeked an eye open and searched out the children. Finding them, she rose to her feet, lifted her nose in the air and ran straight toward them.

Left alone now, I broke off some of the bread and popped it into my mouth, casting a curious glance around the park. My gaze faltered, settling on a man seated on a park bench a short distance away from where the children were sat. He slouched as he sat, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind and I reached silently for my wand, casting a shrouding charm just in case. Although, as I continued to study the man with narrowed eyes, I didn’t think he had any untoward intentions towards the children.

Still, I called out for the children, realising the way the man was once more looking at the children – almost as if he could detect the shrouding charm I’d silently cast. Perhaps he was a wizard, perhaps he wasn’t. But I continued a close watch on him, nonetheless. Perhaps he too could detect that Charlotte was a muggle-born, perhaps he couldn’t. All I knew for certain was that her parents would never appreciate my knowingly keeping them around a stranger. Not when I’d spent years building up their faith in my capabilities.

“Nanny Gauthier,” Charlotte started suddenly, bringing me from my musings. She gestured towards her empty plate to show me that she’d finished all of her food. “Can I please have some chocolate now?”

Without a word, I broke off some chocolate for her, “Here you go, dear. Elliot don’t look at me like that. Finish your apple slices and then you may have some.” 

* * *

The Fairbanks children, left securely in my care, had a structured day. Each morning, I woke them early and dressed them for the day. They were walked down to breakfast where we joined their parents until it was time for them to go to their daily lessons with a break for lunch before they returned for their afternoon lessons. Only Peter remained with me, occupying my time until his siblings finished with their lessons and joined us as we sat in the garden. Mrs Fairbanks had recently overseen the redecorating of their family garden with flowers that I had strict instructions to keep them away from.

Peter, having grown tired of walking, crawled around on his knees. Having long given up on protesting about grass-stained knees, I settled instead for watching him as he chased after a butterfly. Laughing in the innocent way that only children his age could, Peter extended a hand to catch the butterfly, only for his pudgy fist to close around thin air. His mouth turned downwards into a concentrated frown and before he could try again, his attention was shattered with the noisy arrival of his siblings. He released an excited giggle, extending his arms for his brother who was quick to embrace him.

“How were your lessons?” I asked, trying not to laugh at the face Elliot pulled in response to my question. Only Charlotte strived to give me a response.

Charlotte, now six years old, and believing herself to be sixteen, strived to become more and more a lady as each day passed. Of all her siblings, she was looking forward to school beginning once more in September. She joined me at my side, mirroring my position with repeated glances snuck my way; kneeling on the ground with my hands clasped in my lap. When she was satisfied that she’d managed to copy the way I was sitting, she turned expectantly towards me.

“Charlotte?”

“Ask me once more.”

With an indulgent smile, I repeated, “How were your lessons?”

“Mr Phillips says that I’m a very talented reader,” she preened. “He says that with a little more practice, I should be able to read any sort of book.”

Knowing that she was likely exaggerating, I complimented her nonetheless, “That’s wonderful. How about we practice tonight? You can help me read the story tonight?”

“I’d love to!” she insisted with a laugh. She glanced around for a moment, and frowning, she asked slowly, “Where’s Lottie?”

“Lottie?” I asked suddenly, startled with the realisation that my kneazle wasn’t trailing after me. Usually, Lottie would be curled around my feet or even settled in my lap as I worked, content to stay next to me. The only time she was away from me, was when she was with Charlotte. If she wasn’t with Charlotte – “Did you happen to see her?”

“No.” Charlotte drew in a horrified gasp, clutching her hands to her chest. “Have we _lost_ her? Oh no, what if we never see her again? What if Lottie is stuck somewhere, alone and _scared_ and crying out for us to save her – ”

“Relax, dear,” I said cutting her off. Reaching out to put my hand on hers, I assured her, “I’m sure she’s somewhere in your home. Perhaps she’s even busy tormenting the new pet bird your father brought home? Let me search for her, alright? Will you look after your brothers for me?”

“I will,” she assured me, nodding once. As if to prove her point, she turned her eyes to her brothers.

Rising to my feet and looking over the three children once more, I headed into the home with quick feet. Once I was out of earshot, I set off in search of Lottie. Walking through the house, I searched every spare inch before staring contemplatively at the front door. But how would she have gotten out?

Deciding to try it nonetheless, I walked out of the front door and searched the street. My eyes lingered on a suspicious figure – a man wearing a familiar coat with a struggling _kneazle_ in his hands. Eyes narrowed, I hurried out onto the pavement and after making sure no muggles were around, I called out a sharp _Petrificus Totalus_. With a strangled cry, the man fell to his knees and yet somehow managed to release Lottie without hurting her. Released now, Lottie swiped at the man’s coat sleeve to show her displeasure before turning and trotting back into her house.

Walking toward the man, I squatted down beside him. With narrowed eyes, I looked over him, eyes lingering on the wand I could see peeking out from the pocket of his coat. Ending the charm with a wave of my wand, I stood straight and watched as the still strange man – who I now realised I’d seen in the park – rose to his feet. He dusted off his coat, glancing at me and yet avoiding my eyes as I asked, “What in Merlin’s name are you doing with my Kneazle?”

“Merlin?” he repeated curiously, “You’re a witch?”

“Rowena’s sake,” I said with a sharp sigh, gesturing to my wand that I _still_ held at my side, “Of course I am! How would a muggle own a Kneazle?”

For a long moment, he looked at me, simply looking at me and I wanted to ask him what it was he was thinking over. But, remembering that I had left the Fairbank children to their own devices for long enough, I returned my wand once more to the holster hidden at my waist. With one final narrow-eyed look, I turned back toward the house.

“I don’t wish to see you again, sir,” I said shorty. “If I happen to see you once more around my Kneazle, _or_ around the children, then I will call the Aurors without asking what business you have around here.”

Without another word, I turned and returned with quick steps to the Fairbank home. Shutting the front door behind me, I made my way to the garden where I found the three children playing with Lottie who was once more soaking up all the attention that they were lavishing on her. I looked over them quickly, trying to see if they had done any damage whilst they remained unsupervised but thankfully seeing nothing amiss, I returned to their side. 

* * *

When I started working with the Fairbanks, we had negotiated my terms and I’d taken extra caution to ensure that I had enough days off in the month. It was only on these days off that I managed to leave the muggle world to return to the wizarding world. Sometimes, it was only on these days that I could speak to other witches and wizards as they went about doing their daily tasks. Given that the Fairbanks were muggle – most of them at least – I kept almost everything magical in my room which was not to be entered by anyone apart from myself. My wand and Lottie alone were the only magical things that were part of my regular day to day.

Last week the Fairbank children had come down the most dreadful cold and I’d treated it with a home-brewed potion that I’d insisted was specially prescribed medication from the doctor. The children believed me and their parents certainly didn’t question me – not even when their children made a near-miraculous recovery the next morning. But, after having treated them, I’d depleted my stock of the potion. And when I was left in charge of looking after children who caught colds _far_ too easily, it made sense to keep a constant stock of the potion on hand. So, despite not being ideal, I found myself spending my day off with a task related to work. It wasn’t ideal, but I wasn’t complaining.

The shop, specialising in potions ingredients was thankfully not too busy so I could study each of the ingredients without being jostled by other waiting customers. Filling my basket with the ingredients I needed for the potion and also adding in some of the ingredients that I knew I was almost running out of, I headed toward the back of the shop to get some fresh empty potions vials, my feet came to a halt of their own accord when I spied an unwanted familiar face. It was the man – the one I had petrified not so long ago outside the Fairbanks home. I wished, more than anything, that he would turn away and from the way his eyes were darting around the shop he certainly wanted to walk away. But he approached me, nonetheless, looking like he regretted each step he took toward me. 

Adjusting my hold on the basket, I looked at him silently, waiting for him to say something. For a long moment, he didn’t speak a word before clearing his throat. “I owe you an apology.” When I said nothing at all, he hurried to explain with quickened words, “I’m a magizoologist, you see.”

“A magizoologist?” I repeated, intrigued despite not wanting to be. Encouraged by my response, he nodded and when he spoke next, it was much steadier.

“I happened to spy your kneazle whilst you were in the park with the muggle children. I thought that perhaps a muggle family had adopted it and really – for a kneazle to be raised without being near any magic is torture for them.” He cut himself off, realising that he was rambling.

“No, _she_ wasn’t adopted by a muggle family. Lottie is my pet and I’m a nanny for the muggle family.” Eyeing the stranger before me with newfound curiosity, I looked him over and for longer than was strictly polite, I watched the way he seemed unable to make eye contact. Finally, I acquiesced, “I understand, sir. As a magizoologist you were concerned about Lottie’s welfare. Although, I’m not sure that kidnapping her was the best way to go about rescuing her.”

“Sorry about that,” he apologised again, lowering his head. “But I can tell your Kneazle – Lottie, did you say? – is in safe hands, Miss –”

“Gauthier,” I completed for him, realising neither of us had made an attempt to introduce ourselves. If only Charlotte were here – she would never let the opportunity to chastise me for bad manners slip. Not when I insisted that good manners were important and spent so much time teaching that to the children.

“Miss Gauthier,” he repeated. “My name is Newton Scamander.”

“Newt,” I guessed instantly, mouth parted in surprise. Surely not – not the Newt Scamander that had been expelled from school for something no one wanted to speak of? The same Newt Scamander who upon his expulsion had left me without a Herbology partner for the rest of the year? “What are the odds?”

“The odds?” Brows furrowed; Scamander looked like he wanted to ask me something. Only, he kept his curiosity to himself. “I’m sorry?”

“We were at Hogwarts together,” I explained and before he could apologise yet _again_ for not recognising me, I hurried to assure him, “We weren’t exactly friends during our time at school so it makes sense that we didn’t recognise one another. But Merlin, it’s strange. Of all the ways to meet someone again.”

“Fate almost,” Newt agreed before glancing away from me with red touched cheeks. Before he could return his eyes to mine, Newt gestured in the vague direction of my full basket, “I should – I should let you get back to your shopping. It was nice to see you again.”

“It was,” I said, even if my original reaction to seeing him again hadn’t been positive. But, there was something to be said about accidentally running into an old school … acquaintance. 

* * *

Somehow, with no real explanation for _how_ it happened, my days off from work were filled with Newt Scamander. I could accept that the first few meetings had been a pure coincidence with us bumping into one another as I left a shop or as he returned from a meeting with his publishers. The first few meetings had an explanation and yet, every one following that had no real explanation. At some point, we had even taken to writing to one another before we met up. I would have thought of these meetings as something more but neither of us had hinted otherwise. Newt’s lips had remained firmly sealed about anything of the sort but the traitorous part of my mind wondered if he too was keeping the idea of it hidden deep in the back of his mind.

Dismissing the thought, I tried once more to concentrate on the book that was open in my lap; I’d wanted to finish this chapter tonight but my mind refused to concentrate on the written text. Despite my best efforts, I conceded with a frown. Marking my page, I closed the book and set it on the bedside table. Adjusting the pillow behind me, I settled more firmly against the headrest, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to sleep easily tonight.

“Lottie,” I called out gently, glancing at the foot of my bed to where Lottie usually tried to fall asleep before surrendering and joining me to sleep on my chest.

When there was no answering meow, I sat up. Glancing curiously at her, I wondered if she had managed to already fall asleep. But there was something about her, something about the way she was lying there that had my heart falling into my stomach. I didn’t know how, but I _knew_. Approaching her, I reached out a gentle hand, trying to shake her and not caring if she scratched me in retaliation. Right now, checking that she was well was the most important thing.

She was cold to touch – absolutely freezing.

Drawing my hand back quickly, I rose to my feet. Without quite knowing what I was planning on doing, or where I was going, I tied my hair back and shrugged into my coat, uncaring that I was in my nightgown. Gently cradling Lottie, I tucked her securely against my chest and buttoned up my coat around her. Holding her steadily in one hand, I grabbed my wand with the other and tucked it away. Approaching the fireplace in my bedroom, I grabbed a handful of floo powder, stepped into the fireplace and announced an address that I had only ever written down on envelopes.

_Scamander Cottage_

The journey, though short, felt like an eternity to me. My heart pounded unsteadily in my ribcage even as I continued to breathe deeply, needing to calm Lottie in case my obvious fear somehow made her worse. Reaching Newt’s home, I stumbled out of the fireplace into his living room and without a single care for propriety, I called out for him.

“Newt!” My voice echoed around the silent home with dread settling into my heart as I tried to remember what dates he said he’d be out of the country. To my relief, there was the sound of thundering feet running down the stairs before he entered the living room, looking bewildered and startled after having been awoken from his slumber.

His eyes searched the room, eventually settling on me. Brows rising, he opened his mouth repeatedly as if struggling for something to say, “What –”

“Please,” I cried out, the word coming out warbled and letting him know just how close to tears I was. He stumbled a step closer to me, “Please, you have to help me.”

“Help?” He still seemed to struggle; his mind not yet fully awake.

But, when I unbuttoned my coat, not caring that he would see me in my pyjamas, I retrieved a now shivering Lottie and held her out toward him. It was all he needed, just the sight of her had him regaining his facilities. I could physically see the gears in his mind snapping into action as he closed the distance between us. He accepted Lottie, holding her as if she would shatter into thousands of pieces if he was too rough, he looked her over with unsettled eyes.

I had no idea what sort of further training was required to become a magizoologist, or even if he would be able to help, but I could think of no one else. I said as much, clutching my shaking hands together as if doing so would control the shaking of my voice, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“I can help,” he assured me, lifting his eyes to mine and offering me a gentle smile that somehow, despite all rationale, eased my nerves. It was enough to stop me from physically shaking and I nodded just once. “Follow me, please.”

Trailing a very short distance behind Newt, I shadowed his every step as he led me towards the back of the house. We entered a room littered with papers and books with a very small area cleaned for work. With a wave of his wand, Newt cleaned more space and set Lottie down with gentle hands. When she was lying on his desk, he peered over his shoulder to where I remained standing in the doorway.

“You can come in,” he said, moving around the room and gathering ingredients into a mortar.

“I’m ok,” I said simply, not wanting to admit that I was terrified that even stepping one foot into the room would somehow interfere with what he was doing and would steal Lottie away from me.

Newt glanced once more at me, before returning to the ingredients that he’d collated. He set about grinding them into a fine paste, adding a dash of some green herb before pouring the thick paste into a dish. He snagged his wand from his pocket, cast a soundless spell and the paste gathered itself into a pill. Picking up the pill, he held it to the light, studying it for a moment before he once more looked at me.

“I’m afraid I will require your help,” he said regretfully. When I hesitated still, he insisted, “You only have to hold her, I will pop the pill into her mouth. All you need to do is comfort her. Can you do that?”

Nodding without a word, I approached Lottie whose shaking had only gotten worse. With soft hands, I patted her gently, hoping my presence would bring her calm. I eyed Newt who rolled his sleeves up determinedly and knowing how likely Lottie was to bite him if determining him a threat, I lifted her up. Cradling her against my chest with one hand, I opened her mouth with the other.

“Just pop it in – I don’t want you to be bitten,” I said apprehensively, eyeing him as he held the pill steady, inching toward Lottie.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been bitten,” he assured me as if it was supposed to ease my nerves.

Silently I watched him, holding Lottie steady even as she began to struggle, digging her claws into my arms and drawing blood. Holding back a wince, I kept my eyes on Newt who quickly placed the pill in her mouth.

Dusting his hands, Newt cleared his throat and prepared to tidy away his things and said, “Rub her throat to encourage her to swallow.”

Wincing as she dug her claws further into me, I used the hand that had been holding her mouth open to rub her throat, watching anxiously and waiting for her to swallow. At first, Lottie resisted before finally swallowing. I lifted my head, searching out Newt who I realised was already watching us and satisfied with what he’d seen, he nodded.

Gesturing once more to the empty space Lottie had previously been lying on, he insisted, “Set her down and we can keep an eye on her for a couple of hours. She should recover very quickly.”

“Thank you,” I said, not knowing what else to say as I put Lottie down. Now that she was out of my arms, I let myself wince at the pain from her claws. “I don’t know what I would be doing if it wasn’t for you.”

“I’m glad I could be of help,” he said simply. Glancing around the office, Newt retrieved a stool and set it down beside the workplace where Lottie was resting. Snagging a dishrag from the corner, he dusted off the top of the stool and gestured for me to sit. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Newt disappeared without another word, walking further into his home. My eyes trailed after him only until he disappeared out of sight and then I looked back to Lottie who really did appear to be doing better already. Rowena, what would I have done without Newt? Brushing gentle fingers over the top of Lottie’s head, I finally shrugged out of my coat and folded back the sleeves of my nightgown to my elbows and studied the damage Lottie had done to me. The scratched burned, aching and stinging in a way that made me want to itch them. I traced the area around the scratched with gentle fingers, sucking in a breath through my teeth at the pain and hurriedly drawing my hand back.

“I made some tea,” Newt announced, walking back into the office and startling me. His met my eyes, the smile dying on his face when he realised what I’d been doing. I contemplated hiding my forearm but it was too late. Walking into the room, Newt set the tea tray down beside Lottie. He wrung his hands together, explaining, “I made some tea – it’s chamomile. When you return home, you should be able to sleep.”

“Oh,” I said suddenly, remembering just what time it was. “I woke you up with my arrival. I’m terribly sorry –”

“You mustn’t apologise,” he said simply, pouring out a cup of tea and placing it beside me. He didn’t pour a second cup, looking once more around the room.

I watched as Newt set off, once more gathering a combination of ingredients. Turning away from him, I poured a second cup for Newt and picked it up. Just as I went to hand it to him, he appeared before me with a stool in one hand and mortar in the other. Setting the stool before mine, he looked at me with wide eyes when I held the cup silently towards him.

“Thank you,” he said with a soft smile, accepting the cup and then setting it aside. Shifting slightly to get a look at the paste in the mortar, my eyes went back to Newt who hesitated, trying to say something. At last, he gestured to my forearm, “Can I get a look?”

Silently, without a word of protest, I held out my forearm and watched as his fingers fluttered around my arm, hesitant to touch me. Eventually, he did, just the press of his fingertips to my heated skin but he swallowed nervously. Studying his face and noting the way the tips of his ears were reddening, I said nothing as Newt dipped his fingers into his homemade paste and then smeared it over my scratches. The cool paste eased the itching in a heartbeat, drying slowly as Newt wrapped my forearm in gauze and tied the end.

“It should be dried by tomorrow morning,” he said checking the knot was secure. “You can rinse it off when you wake up and the scratches should be mostly healed. The rest of it will heal naturally.”

“Thank you,” I said, left with nothing else to say. “Again.”

“It’s nothing, really.” Tidying away the mortar, Newt eventually returned to the stool in front of me. He settled down and glanced around, uncertainly before reaching for his tea. I copied him, taking a small sip when he finally spoke again, “If you had arrived tomorrow night you might not have found me.”

“I struggled to remember the correct date you were leaving England,” I said softly, warming my hands with the teacup. “I had the luck of finding you. Will you – will you be returning soon?”

“Once I’ve completed my business, I,” he cut himself off, lifting his eyes to mine so sharply that I wondered if he was truly Newt. Holding my gaze, he drew in a slow breath before asking, “Would you like me to return soon?”

Evading his searching eyes, I asked, “Do you want to return soon?"

“If you want me to,” he remained so resolute that I gave an incredulous smile.

“Just how often are we going to go back and forth like this?”

Newt shrugged simply, thinking for a moment before assuring me, “I won’t be gone long.”

It was my turn to hold my silence, not saying anything for a long moment as I gathered up the courage to say what I really wanted to. In the end, I did, “I’m glad.” 


	2. Epilogue: 6 Years Later

_6 YEARS LATER_

My husband who I _loved_ and adored and who looked at me like I had strung the stars in the sky, was going to die. And it would be of _my_ doing. As far as I was concerned, he deserved it as well.

Newt, busy at work and signing off the last of his papers for his new book, had left home early in the morning. And when he finally returned home from work, there would be _issues._ Even now, I remained pacing before the front door, unwilling to risk missing him. Walking the length of the corridor for what must have been the hundredth time since I had found out, I gave yet another glance into the drawing-room where Lottie was lying curled up on the sofa cushion beside my three-year-old son who had fallen asleep in his position. I would attempt to move him but I knew he’d wake up the moment I cast a spell to lift him to carry him into his bedroom.

There was a yowl from the other side of the room, from across where Lottie was slumbering and it was enough to have me narrowing my eyes. Shifting my eyes to the ginger tom cat sprawled in front of the fireplace, I tried not to scowl. _He_ wasn’t the one that deserved my anger. My husband was the one who would bear the full brunt of it. Crossing my arms over my chest, I breathed out sharply, giving Leo a sharp-eyed look when he stretched as if to join Lottie in her position on the sofa. For a moment it looked like he would rebel like he was _always_ doing before he settled down once more in his place in front of the fire. Satisfied, I leaned against the doorway, able to peer into the front room to watch Leo but also able to look at the front door if I turned my head to the left.

Leo was saved once more from standing under my glare when the front door opened. Pushing away from the doorframe and giving Leo one final warning glance, I hurried toward the door to intercept my husband. Newt, stepping into the home with his briefcase, who expected to be greeted with a smile and a kiss like he always was, grinned and opened his arms for me. But, when I didn’t go instantly into his arms, his smile faltered for a moment, arms lowering to his side.

“Sweetheart?”

“Do _not_ sweetheart me, Newton Artemis _Fido_ Scamander.” His full name had him lowering his briefcase uncertainly to the floor. I could physically see his brain working, trying to figure out what I was obviously annoyed about. “I _told_ you.”

“You told me?” he repeated hesitantly, staring at me in confusion. Hesitantly leaving his briefcase behind, Newt approached me much like he approached an unruly aggressive animal. Eyes narrowed, I continued to watch as he came to stand slowly in front of me. Fidgeting with his scarf, Newt cleared his throat before asking, “Can I ask what’s wrong?”

“ _Leo,”_ I hissed sharply, pointing aggressively toward the drawing-room where Leo was sitting and hopefully keeping his distance from Lottie. Jabbing a finger at Newt’s chest, I said sharply, “You _told_ me that he’d been neutered! When I told you, I was worried about Leo your _tomcat_ getting Lottie my _kneazle_ pregnant, you told me – you _assured_ me that he’d been neutered and I didn’t have anything to worry about!”

“Oh.” He took a short step back, putting himself _just_ out of arm’s reach so I couldn’t jab at his chest again. Rubbing softly over the spot where I’d repeatedly poked at him, he cleared his throat before saying, “Leo got Lottie pregnant? Already?”

“Already?” I repeated, doubting my ears and tempted to reach for my wand. He knew? Merlin, _he knew_ –

Newt, likely knowing where my mind had wandered, closed the space between us. Holding my arms gently, he lowered his head so he could look into my eyes. “If it helps, I really did believe that Leo had been neutered when I brought him home. But –”

“But?”

“I might have realised that he hadn’t been neutered a couple of weeks ago.”

“And you didn’t have him fixed?” I demanded, closing my eyes with a groan. “What are we going to do when there are half kneazles running around? My entire day is filled with making sure that Charles doesn’t get into trouble with Lottie and Leo. What am I going to do when there’s who knows how many half-kneazles running around?”

“We’ll handle it,” he assured me. Briefly, I wondered how he could be so calm about this unexpected development but I realised that he was likely trying to make me calm me down before my anger could deepen over how his cat had _taken advantage_ of my kneazle. “We can’t help if they’ve fallen in love.”

“Oh please – you study animals. You _know_ they’re not in love. They’re in _lust_ and –”

“Mum!” Charlies cried out, having woken from his sleep in a nightmare and unknowingly saving his father from more scolding

“Give me a minute, my love!” I called out, turning to join our son. But, pausing, I sent Newt one final look, “Your son has saved you.”

“I’ll handle it,” Newt promised from behind me. I didn’t even look back at him, not wanting to even ask just how he was going to handle it. All I knew now was that my mind was whirring, trying to think of arrangements that needed to be made in order to accommodate the litter that Lottie was going to have. The research I’d stumbled across suggested that kneazles could have anywhere between 5 to 10 kittens in their first litter.

Perhaps, with Charlotte heading off to Hogwarts this September, perhaps I could gift her a half kneazle to make her feel less lonely. That is if I wanted to give them up – somehow, I thought I wouldn’t want to give up a single one. I certainly hadn’t wanted to give Leo up; despite the protests, I’d put up about bringing him into our home. Despite my protests, he’d certainly been good at defending our home from Newt’s Niffler’s sticky fingers.

Rowena’s wrath – we already had Charles, three Nifflers, Lottie _and_ Leo. How was I going to cope with anywhere up to 10 half kneazles running around? Would we need to extend the house? What was I going to do? Before I could get worked up once more – this time worried instead of angry, Charles gave another call for me and I found myself too preoccupied to be worried.


End file.
